Those Other Years
by Firelordawesome
Summary: Warbucks must decide whether to spend time with his family or help the president.


**Got inspired after watching Annie (1982) for the first time in forever. Oliver and Grace have four children in this story (but only one makes an appearance): Annie (1922), Ida (1934), Sebastian (1936) and Mickey (1938). This story is set on Dec. 7, 1941. Didn't proof read, so it most definitely aint perfect.**

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Oliver Warbucks was busy at his desk. He was on the phone talking to someone about something important, evidently, for he was shouting louder than usual. He was angry, so angry his face was a deep purple. The little boy playing trains loudly below his feet didn't help the situation either. In fact, it made it worse.

"I DON'T CARE IF HE'S TALKING TO THE KING OF ENGLAND," Warbucks shouted with rage, "PUT HIM ON THE PHONE THIS INSTANT!" The train whistled below him and he cringed, his head throbbing. "NO… DON'T PUT ME ON HOLD! I'M A VERY BUSY MAN—she put me on hold." He hung up the phone aggressively and sighed, looking down at the young boy playing below him. "Sebastian, please, could you play somewhere else! Daddy's got very important business to take care of." His phone rang and he picked it up.

As Warbucks continued arguing with the person over the phone, Grace ran in, her face panicked. "Oh, Oliver, did you hear? Isn't it just awful?"

"Terrible!" he said, hanging up the phone once again. "I'm trying to get ahold of the president… No such luck." The train's whistle blew once again and he was almost screaming. "Grace… would you—" He gestured towards the boy.

"Sebastian," she said, leading the boy towards the door, "why don't you go play with your sister. Let your father work."

"Are we going to war," asked Sebastian, his hand reaching for his nose. Grace grabbed his hand before it touched his nose, holding it softly

"I don't know," Grace said, "but that's not something you need to worry about… okay, dear?"

"Okay," he said, leaving his father's office.

Grace sat down as Oliver quietly massaged his temple, trying to tame the migraine that wanted nothing more than to burst out. Grace looked about as panicked as Oliver felt. "Oh Oliver," she said, "what will we do?"

"I don't know, but this isolation junk Roosevelt is preaching about ain't workin' for us," Warbucks said. The phone rang again and for a moment, Oliver thought not to pick it up. "If he doesn't do something to those rotten"—the phone ringing didn't help his head, so he picked it up—"Hello? Yes, who is this…? I—yes, I heard, that's—No… listen, I want you to put him on—No I will not… PLEASE INFORM THE PRESIDENT TO EITHER DO SOMETHING OR GET THE HELL OUT! THANK YOU, BYE." He slammed the phone down hard. "Democrats," he huffed.

"Darling—"

"You should take the children out today," said Warbucks, flipping through papers on his desk. "Go see a movie. A stroll in the park. Whatever to keep them busy." He stood, abruptly picking up the papers on his desk. "ASP!" he yelled. Quickly, the Asp appeared, ready for orders. "Get the auto copter ready! I'm going to D.C.!"

"Darling," said Grace again. She grabbed him, stopping him from leaving his office. "I think taking the children out is a wonderful idea—"

"Good," he said. He tried to leave, but Grace still had a firm grip on him. "Now if you'll excuse me—"

"I think you should come with us," she said.

"What? But Grace—"

"I know," she said, "but remember what Doctor Hermann said?"

"I can't recall," he said stubbornly.

She smiled, thoughtlessly fixing his tie. "He said you should stay away from high stress situations."

Warbucks huffed, attempting to twist his way out of his wife's grip once more. Grace is stronger than she looks, he noted. "Grace, this is nonnegotiable," he said. Unable to break loose from her grip, he opted to take her hand instead. "If I can't speak with him over the phone, then I'm just going to have to see him in person!"

"The president will handle this," she argued. "That's his job, Oliver, not yours."

"Grace, I—"

Sebastian, in complete excitement, runs in his father's office, startling both his parents. He jumps in glee, landing safely in his father's arms. "It's snowing! It's snowing," he said happily.

"It is?" said Grace, walking to the window. "Why it is! How beautiful."

"Can we go outside and play, mommy?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. Grace looked at Oliver, who then looked at Sebastian. He looked so excited. Wouldn't it be wonderful, thought Oliver, to be a kid and have no knowledge of war? Their meaning of war is different, he knew; war is a silly game they play with friends and something far better than any war Oliver's ever known.

"What's everybody looking at me for," Oliver said, playfully being angry. "Go get your sled! Of course we can go outside and play!"

"Alright!" said Sebastian. His father let him down so he could go get ready. He was practically shouting at his siblings in the hallway, informing them of the good news.

"Oh Oliver," said Grace, kissing him. The phone rang again and Grace almost looked frightened.

"Why don't you go help the children get ready," he said, sitting at his desk, "and I'll handle this call."

"Oliver—"

"I won't be long now, Grace," he said, gesturing for her to leave. Hesitantly, she complied.

He picked up the phone. "Yes? Mr. President… Yes, I heard. Come to D.C.?" He heard playful laughter echoing in the halls of his home. "Oh no, no. I'm afraid I'm far too busy. Yes, I'm sure. You can handle it. It is your job, after all."


End file.
